Writes..."I Think..."

something else i should've already posted...

"i think a lot…

i'm guessing anyone reading this that knows me is expecting me to follow that with something funny or sarcastic because i'm funny and sarcastic, but there isn't anything funny or sarcastic about that statement; so it's not coming. or maybe they're expecting me to use a quote from somebody famous that would connect to what i'd just written and somehow make it seem more profound or engaging; perhaps something from oscar wilde or william shakespeare; somebody that they know i like because we're of a similar mindset; but i won't. their words are their words and this is about what i have to say. the truth is i do think a lot. probably too much; and about things i shouldn't; but thinking's what i do and i'm exceptional at it; even when i don't want to be.

i think about the past...

i would love to start this thought off by saying i've known her for a long time because i have known her a long time; i'm thinking we first met in the seventh grade in middle school; so i guess if i really wanted to i could start this thought off like that but i won't. the truth is, even though i've known her since then, i never really knew her; at least not the way i should have. and i apologize for that, both to her and to myself. i know everybody has regrets that they have to live with; times that they look back on and wish they had been better than they were but they weren't. and i'm no different. there have been times i stayed silent when i should've spoken out; and times i remained hidden in the shadows when i should've emerged into the light; and i've lost because of those choices. i've been a loser; because i've lost opportunities to achieve what i want in this life but i own my bad decisions. "closed mouths don't get fed"; a friend of mine offered me that little nugget of wisdom yesterday. and they're right. so i guess when i told her i want to know her, not only was that my attempt to get full with knowledge about her, but it was a departure from being the person i was when i was content to see her every day and not say anything to her; in essence this is me being better. it is kinda funny though, that a "facebook" status game had given me an opportunity to do what i should have done a long time ago; i sent her a message thanking her for the kind words she posted about me and she replied to it by echoing my sentiments. it is kinda sad that our first real conversation came through "facebook" almost twenty years after we first met. but that's the reality of the 2011 version of "us". there isn't anything we can do about the past, or what the 1993 or 1997 version of "us" may have been or could have done in the time we wasted by not having been closer. all we can do is be thankful we're both still here and eager to rectify past mistakes.

i think about the day...

ever since i wrote my piece with her as my "muse" and she told me she wanted to frame it, i felt like the appropriate course of action to take would be to present her with a signed copy of it that she could hang up on her wall or keep by her bed or whatever she wanted to do with it; as long as every time she read it, and i hoped that was often, it impressed upon her that someone out there, someone she probably never even would have imagined, believed she was something special and absolutely worth devoting a few words to. i mean, i'm kinda an artist and that's what artists do, right? get the work that they've deemed the most meaningful to the people it would mean the most to. but i had been hesitant to do so. for some reason when i thought about telling her my idea, in my mind i ended up sounding up like a weirdo, fumbling and stuttering like we were kids back in middle school, flashing back to those old "do you like me? check the "yes" or "no" box" notes people used to pass around. at 31, i'm trying to imagine the conversation and i recognize that having it start something like: "would it be ok if..." or "do you think i could..."; having to tell myself that i need not revert back to a younger me when i would have been too afraid to let her know what i was thinking, is sad. what could she do? politely decline? possibly. call me a stalker and tell me to leave her alone forever? i guess that's another possibility. but i should've known from our previous conversations, or at least from the way she reacted to my "thought" on her, that she would relish the idea of having her own tangible copy of the things that i want her to know: how i perceive her to be; that i think i see her for more than most; and that i realize she's a truly remarkable woman.

i'd resigned myself to the idea of mailing my work to her; "facebook" said she was in columbus and i was back in akron, had been for a little more than a year. so when i recognized her address as somewhere i recognized from here and her having mentioning meeting up in order to "save me the postage", seeing her in person became less like a possibility and more like than an inevitability. ralph waldo emerson said, "never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is god's handwriting"; which makes what i'm about to write profound because in our first conversation i mentioned that i didn't want to keep saying how lovely she was over and over. not that i wouldn't, and definitely not because i didn't believe it; i just didn't want her elegance to be the only thing she thought i recognized in her. and she responded that "her outside beauty couldn't even hold a candle to the beauty she had on the inside. that it was all god." and she is right; god perfected his stroke when he made her and i needed to witness his work first-hand. i've been a fool before, even when it came to our past, or lack of one; but i wasn't foolish enough to miss a chance to be in her presence. i wanted that as much as i wanted her to have the signed copy of my "thought", and knowing that we were in the same city and i could hand my words over to her personally, led me to believe the gesture of writing about her had gained even more significance. we made plans to meet up, in the middle of an insignificant day, in as seemingly an insignificant place. honestly, i wouldn't have cared if it had been a burger king parking lot. it wasn't a burger king parking lot but i wouldn't have cared if it had been. "she walks up to where i'm sitting, an image that only be described by greater poets than myself. john keats wrote, "a thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness"; and after seeing her for the first time in more than a decade, he'd get no argument from me for that way of thinking; she stands before me today proof of it. i remember when we were younger; seeing her and thinking that she was a beautiful girl, remarkably beautiful in fact, and nothing's changed except now she's a beautiful woman. she's still remarkable and she's about to find out that i've thought so for a long time.

i stand up and pull out a chair for her, it's the least i can do since i do claim to be quixotic. she sits down and our first one-on-one, face-to-face conversation begins with a moment of silence, a look from me, a smile from her, then laughter from both of us. what do you say to someone you should already be talking to? how do you start to get to know someone you should already know? i guess starting the conversation like every other conversation would work. "hey, how are you?" and again we laugh. it's a comfortable laugh and we seem to be at ease in one another's company. we talk about "facebook" and what actually brought us together again. i still can't get over the fact that she has an affinity for the thoughts, ramblings and quotes that i post. she "likes" me, well not "me" per se, more like my words as i take them from mind to hand to paper. but the truth is, my words are as "me" as my face or my body are. so isn't "liking" what i have to say essentially "liking" the person that i am? i mean, i'm a likeable person, so maybe "me" right? i think about that as we continue speaking until we hug and part ways, both confident that this is the beginning of something new for us. it'll be the friendship that eluded us years ago; perhaps the relationship between two people that needs not explaining. i'll write; she'll inspire; and vice versa; a lifelong connection based the power of words and what they mean to us.

i think...i think that sounds about right."